


Enough

by hunters_retreat



Series: Charming Verse [28]
Category: Leverage, Supernatural, Supernatural/Leverage Crossover
Genre: Injured Sam, M/M, Pissed Off Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-12
Updated: 2009-06-12
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I said we needed you but you were two damn full of yourself to come help with something real.”  He spat the words and it wasn’t like Eliot could repudiate them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

>  [](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/profile)[comment_fic](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/) prompt of Sam/Dean/Eliot, guns, knives, and other weapons of choice

 

He looked at the spread before him, guns, knives, and other weapons of choice. Eliot fingered one of the flasks of holy water, knowing that when Dean set it all out like this, taking the time to carry it in from the Impala and set it up, that it was cleaned and filled and ready to be put back. It also meant that something had happened because when Dean was frustrated or upset he liked to work with his hands.

 

 

 

Well, Eliot had some other ideas about what Dean could do with his hands.  
 

 

Sam came out of the bathroom first, towel wrapped around his waist and water still dripping down his chest. It made Eliot’s knees want to bend, want to crawl across the floor for him but he wasn’t really in the mood for that today. Sam looked up and saw him there, eyes taking him in for a second before he was crossing the room in large strides and had him engulfed in his arms before he’d managed to say anything.

 

  
When Sam pulled back a bit, he smiled up at the other man, “Hey Sam." One of Sam’s hands cupped his cheek and his thumb ran lightly over the cuts on the side of his face. They stared at one another for a minute and then Sam’s face broke out into a smile.

 

“Christo” They said at the same time, both laughing because there was always a little nervous tension before the word was said and they could relieve it easily enough by hiding it in a silly game.

 

  
Sam pulled away, leaving Eliot’s shirt wet from the dripping man. He watched as Sam moved carefully back to the bathroom. “Dean, we have company.” He said softly and it was then that Eliot saw the bandages covering Sam’s back. He understood the rows or precisely cleaned weapons and the way Sam was treading softly around his brother. 

 

  
He wanted to run back to the other room and see Dean, see with his own eyes that Dean was no worse off than Sam but he knew he had to let Dean take his time. He could be injured or it could just be the failure to protect Sam that caused Sam’s quiet calm. 

 

  
Eliot watched Dean come out of the bathroom and although there were some nasty cuts it was Dean’s eyes that held the worst of the injury. “Eliot?” Dean’s voice was a low growl and Eliot held his hands up in defense. 

 

  
“Hey Dean.”

 

  
They were the only words he had time for before Dean was across the room, knife to Eliot’s throat before he realized Dean had snagged one from the bed. He didn’t try to fight him off, didn’t give Dean a reason to lash out anymore than he already had by showing up. He understood what this was, understood what Dean needed the same way Sam did. Sam, who sat watching with pained eyes and an expression of relief and need so great that Eliot wouldn’t have been able to turn away even if he wasn’t willing to give this to his brother. 

 

  
He was so screwed.

 

  
“Where the hell were you?” Dean demanded, the knife at his throat digging in just enough that he knew the edge of the blade would be sweating blood. “I said we needed you but you were two damn full of yourself to come help with something real.” He spat the words and it wasn’t like Eliot could repudiate them. 

 

  
Dean _had_ called. Eliot had told him he’d make it today but Dean said they couldn’t wait. Eliot just didn’t believe it was something Dean and Sam couldn’t handle. Eliot Spencer had his faults and one of them happened to be his inability to think of the Winchester boys as anything but infallible and immortal. He knew it for the fault that it was, but nothing could stop him from that, not from the moment when the two hustlers he’d met at the bar showed up to save his ass from vampires.

 

  
Eliot didn’t answer, didn’t give a response because there was no way to make Dean think there was anything, _anything_ , that should have come before Sam. No one’s life was more important to Dean, not even his own. Instead he shifted his eyes away from Dean. He looked at Sam who stood back, watching his brother with a whole other pain foremost in his eyes. “I’m sorry Sam.”

 

  
The pressure of the blade was harder then, enough that Eliot felt the blood start to fall in a thin line down his neck. “You don’t get to talk to him Spencer.” Dean said, his voice quiet and more dangerous than he’d ever heard it before. “You don’t get to ask his forgiveness.”

 

  
Eliot forced himself to stay calm. He’d been in bad spots before, but the difference was he’d always been willing to hurt the people that held him. He wasn’t willing to hurt Dean or Sam. He felt helpless under Dean’s hands, felt the stabbing beginnings of panic because while he trusted that Dean knew just how far he could push that knife’s edge without really hurting him, he knew Dean could end it all just as quickly too.

 

  
He closed his eyes, afraid that what he was feeling might show, afraid he’d turn to Sam in some sort of plea for help that Dean would take the wrong way. He heard movement, felt the blade back off a little then press back into him. 

 

  
“It’s not his fault.” He heard Sam’s whispered words and opened his eyes to find Sam pressed up behind his brother, his hand on Dean’s as he tried to take the blade from him. “It’s not yours either.”

 

  
“He should have been here Sam. If he’d been here…” Dean’s voice broke and Eliot closed his eyes again, afraid to see what Dean would look like at that moment. “If I’d waited …” 

 

  
“Someone would have died. We did the job Dean and we got out. Let it go.”

 

  
He felt the moment Dean did, felt the blade fall away from his skin, felt Dean sag against him, trembling and trying to hold it in. Eliot’s hands came up to Dean’s back, pulling him tight and Sam pressed in from behind, resting his forehead on his brother’s bent shoulders.

  


 

Eliot didn’t move. There would be other things said tonight, other accusations and then he and Dean would have it out again, he was certain. It wasn’t the first time he hadn’t been there and it wouldn’t be the last, he knew with a fair amount of guilt. They’d find their way through this though, like always. Teeth and blood and sweat and fingers, bruises and scratches and bite marks. They’d fight this battle with weapons of their choosing and when they parted they’d remember for a little while longer exactly why they never stayed together long. 

 

It was enough to keep them grounded. Enough to keep them all from admitting how much this all meant. Enough to keep from falling any further.

 


End file.
